Juggling an apple.
Apparently.
According to my favourite port of call when I am A: physically sick, B: mentally exhausted and C: quite a bit of je ne sais pas. That would be Cabin Pressure. Listen below for the quirky life advice of Arthur Shappey.
There are a million things you might apply to happiness. A trillion. Basically, happiness is like the universe, expanding and expanding and expanding. So much so that we honestly cannot comprehend even into what it is expanding to.
I feel like I am complaining a lot lately, or at the very least, around people I find myself wanting to say negative things. I might have mentioned the national sport of England is not football, but "whinging" (their word for complaining).
Plus I am a natural perfectionist, at least in my head, even though you could say I have areas of total messiness and imperfection I am the least perfect person possible. (At least in terms of attempts to be such). Nonetheless, I do strive to give off the best impression, be likeable, be passionate, be engaging. That's *very* hard to keep up on a daily basis when you are also an introvert who would much rather be at the back creating things, instead of at the front telling people how to do something, or directing them toward some form of comprehension.
I recently went back down to London, for the day. I was literally up at 5am and back home and in bed by after midnight. In one day I went from a small town with small people and small minds to one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world and back again, in the space of 18 hours.
Sometimes I cannot comprehend what possessed me to go down the path I am on. I dream of being a freelance writer. I dream of being an author. I dream of wandering the paths of Greenwood and exploring halls of Imladris. I want to be whom and where I am not.
Sound familiar? I bet.
Part of my reasons for being over here in England was just because I was hating being at home. I was stifled. I felt stagnant. I felt like I was going the back end of nowhere.
And then today I heard of a girl who asks things like "which twin's birthday is it today?" and who takes great joy in spending hours on painting toenails and the like Simple. Mindless. To her, that is pure happiness.
To me, I cannot comprehend how anyone could find joy in something like that. I'll do it. But I would nnever spend hours on that sort of thing. Then again, I read for hours on end and someone else might say I am wasting time reading mindless entertainment, seeing as most of library is fantasy, sci-fi or mystery. Genre fiction.
It's a simple activity to me. Simple. Mindless.
I can get lost in it.
Take those moments when you wake up late, rush out the door, breakfast in hand or dangling from your lips, saliva starting to melt it into mush. When you reach your destination on time. What do you feel?
I'd describe it as the best caffeinated, caffeine substitute this side of the universe.
That is happiness.
It is no grand, unobtanium from some distant planet. It might even be the slice of peanut butter toast being crammed in your mouth.
Except that you probably will forget you crammed it in your mouth an hour later when you are trapped in the rat race of work and you will feel distinctly unhappy.
So, how do you feel happy?
By remembering. Make a story of your day. Make it dramatic. Put it to the soundtrack of some epic music or belt it out like you are the star of a musical.
I am challenging you to keep a notebook listing everything that you did every day that should bring happiness, did bring happiness or could bring happiness. The next time you parttake in that speedy breakfast of peanut butter toast, enjoy the feeling of it sticking to the roof of your mouth as you barrel-ride your way to work.
Happiness is the courage to see your perspective from the rear view mirror.
Remember the Bucket? Fill it up with moments of happiness.
And epic music...like this: The best way to be fantastic in life is to have the courage to build a mountain of little moments of happiness. Stand on that. Then make more and stand in the valley, surrounded by those mountains.
Happiness. Is. Everything.
Moony.
Apparently.
According to my favourite port of call when I am A: physically sick, B: mentally exhausted and C: quite a bit of je ne sais pas. That would be Cabin Pressure. Listen below for the quirky life advice of Arthur Shappey.
There are a million things you might apply to happiness. A trillion. Basically, happiness is like the universe, expanding and expanding and expanding. So much so that we honestly cannot comprehend even into what it is expanding to.
I feel like I am complaining a lot lately, or at the very least, around people I find myself wanting to say negative things. I might have mentioned the national sport of England is not football, but "whinging" (their word for complaining).
Plus I am a natural perfectionist, at least in my head, even though you could say I have areas of total messiness and imperfection I am the least perfect person possible. (At least in terms of attempts to be such). Nonetheless, I do strive to give off the best impression, be likeable, be passionate, be engaging. That's *very* hard to keep up on a daily basis when you are also an introvert who would much rather be at the back creating things, instead of at the front telling people how to do something, or directing them toward some form of comprehension.
I recently went back down to London, for the day. I was literally up at 5am and back home and in bed by after midnight. In one day I went from a small town with small people and small minds to one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world and back again, in the space of 18 hours.
Sometimes I cannot comprehend what possessed me to go down the path I am on. I dream of being a freelance writer. I dream of being an author. I dream of wandering the paths of Greenwood and exploring halls of Imladris. I want to be whom and where I am not.
Sound familiar? I bet.
Part of my reasons for being over here in England was just because I was hating being at home. I was stifled. I felt stagnant. I felt like I was going the back end of nowhere.
And then today I heard of a girl who asks things like "which twin's birthday is it today?" and who takes great joy in spending hours on painting toenails and the like Simple. Mindless. To her, that is pure happiness.
To me, I cannot comprehend how anyone could find joy in something like that. I'll do it. But I would nnever spend hours on that sort of thing. Then again, I read for hours on end and someone else might say I am wasting time reading mindless entertainment, seeing as most of library is fantasy, sci-fi or mystery. Genre fiction.
It's a simple activity to me. Simple. Mindless.
I can get lost in it.
Take those moments when you wake up late, rush out the door, breakfast in hand or dangling from your lips, saliva starting to melt it into mush. When you reach your destination on time. What do you feel?
I'd describe it as the best caffeinated, caffeine substitute this side of the universe.
That is happiness.
It is no grand, unobtanium from some distant planet. It might even be the slice of peanut butter toast being crammed in your mouth.
Except that you probably will forget you crammed it in your mouth an hour later when you are trapped in the rat race of work and you will feel distinctly unhappy.
So, how do you feel happy?
By remembering. Make a story of your day. Make it dramatic. Put it to the soundtrack of some epic music or belt it out like you are the star of a musical.
I am challenging you to keep a notebook listing everything that you did every day that should bring happiness, did bring happiness or could bring happiness. The next time you parttake in that speedy breakfast of peanut butter toast, enjoy the feeling of it sticking to the roof of your mouth as you barrel-ride your way to work.
Happiness is the courage to see your perspective from the rear view mirror.
Remember the Bucket? Fill it up with moments of happiness.
And epic music...like this: The best way to be fantastic in life is to have the courage to build a mountain of little moments of happiness. Stand on that. Then make more and stand in the valley, surrounded by those mountains.
Happiness. Is. Everything.
Moony.
